My taxi had no side mirrors left, and the driver explained with a big grin that they're useless here. I found that a little hard to believe. All around us, everyone was honking to say hello, watch out, thank you, or just for fun. The warm New Delhi air smelled of jasmine and gasoline. Yuuki flattened himself at the bottom of his bag, ears pinned back, and shot me a look of pure betrayal. Despite all that, we made it to the hotel right on schedule.

The next day, I took a night train north, in a sleeper berth with four strangers. An elderly lady unwrapped some still-warm parathas and handed one to Yuuki before she even said hello to me. He devoured the whole thing, then settled on her lap and didn't budge. I had booked my seat two months ahead, and seeing all the travelers standing in the corridor, I realized it was the best decision of my entire trip.

A few days later, in Ladakh, I arrived at Pangong Lake out of breath, from the altitude as much as the scenery. The water shifted from turquoise to inky blue every time a cloud drifted across the sun. The pebbles were so cold my fingers turned bright red. I struck a pose on a rock, arm outstretched, chin up, convinced I was about to nail the photo of my life! Yuuki, sitting behind me, stared at me with such contempt that he ended up in every single shot, and my followers only commented on his face.